For the next couple of days the only thing that Dean could think of was the kid from the Fair. He lost all interest in women and spent his nights lost in thoughts about Sam, drinking whatever hard liquor he could get his hands on. It wasn't until the fifth day after the fair, did Dean see Sam again. Dean was finishing up talks with a local land owner still trying to find the right horse when he walking on the opposite side of the dirt town road was Sam. He was folded up on himself, hands in his pockets, big had covering his face, head down. It was pretty obvious that he was trying to become invisible. Sam stopped outside the liquor store obviously waiting for someone. Dean ended his conversation and jogged over to Sam.
"Sam" He called. Sam looked in his direction but with his hair and the hat Dean really couldn't see his face. Dean came up beside him.
"Good to see you again." Dean said. Dean did manage to see a smile graces Sam's face.
Dean took the tip of Sam's hat between his fingers and tilted it up. "What is with the…" He stopped when he saw the bruises on Sam's face. Sam backed away slightly.
"What happened?" Dean asked.
"I- I got into a fight with some other kids out by my farm." Sam lied unconvincingly.
"You don't seem like the type of kid that would get himself into fights." He paused. "Did your dad do this to you?" Dean asked moving a little closer to Sam, though he already knew the answer.
"Look!" Sam said shoving him away. "You don't even know me!" Sam yelled though he couldn't believe he was. Finally someone was actually caring about him and here he was shoving them away no less. 'What the hell is wrong with me?' Sam thought. Sam had spent a lot of time thinking about touching Dean since the market fair and in none of those fantasies was he pushing him away.
Dean stumble back just as Ethan was coming out of the liquor store. "Look Sam I didn't mean to." Dean stopped when he saw Ethan.
"Is my boy bothering you?" Ethan asked Dean.
"No, sir" Dean answered. Before he had time to get in another word in Ethan was holing Sam off again. He could hear him yelling.
"What the hell were you doing boy? Causing a scene like that. I will teach you to make a scene!"
Dean watched them. He could feel rage building up inside him at the way Ethan was treating Sam. To his own surprise all he wanted to do was protect the kid. 'He is really getting under my skin.' Dean thought. Dean always put him self first that is how he managed to stay alive for so long. Watch your own back and don't put your nose where it doesn't belong. 'Well there is no harm in asking around.' Dean thought. So Dean ambled up to one of the various saloons along the town road.
snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsns
By the time that Sam got home night had fallen and all he was thinking was how he had wished he had grabbed on to Dean and asked him to take him away, anywhere but here with his father. Sam stumbled into the main room and landed in front of his father's chair. Ethan walked over to him and grabbed his hair pulling his face up to his. Ethan looked over Sam's face as if he was trying to figure something out. Sam thought that maybe he was off the hook. Ethan would just tell him to start on his chores and be on his way. It wasn't all bad living with his father. Sam liked to think that one day he could see eye to with him. That he would be something that his father could be proud of. Ethan seemed to read the hope in his eyes and dragged him to the fire place as he did so he ripped off Sam's shirt. He picked up a burning hot poker from the fire and placed it on Sam's shoulder and watched him scream. Between the tears Sam looked up at his father. He hoped whatever he was trying to kill in himself by hurting Sam that it would die soon. Ethan stopped just as quickly as he had started. He let Sam go and Sam scurried away from him. Sam backed into a wall and watched as his father sat down. Sam didn't let his eyes leave Ethan's form; at least while Sam was watching him he couldn't hurt him.
snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsns
Dean was working on his fourth drink while talking to the local doctor…well as Dean learned he was really a glorified pharmacist. Dean was half listening to the "doctor" drone on and on about how they just didn't make boots the way that they used. He could remember the day when you could get boots and your feet would wear out before they did. They were made from best leathers that would curve to your foot and not blister it. "Damn blisters!" The man said as he slammed his hand down.
Dean was creating a list of all the features he hated about the man in his head. First and foremost was his breath. Dean was wondering that after the man was done with his boots if he ate them. Second was constant flailing. He seemed to punctuate each point with slapping his hand on the table, grabbing at Dean's shirt or leaning in closer to Dean, which brought Dean back to the number one reason he hated him. Third was it seemed like it was a daily ritual for him to get drunk and pass out. 'Perfect.' Dean thought, 'The town drunk or rather one of the town drunks was its only doctor. Pharmacist.' Dean corrected himself.
"You see there lad, the reason needs a good pair of boots is because is because he needs something to keep him on his feet with all of the suffering you see in a day." The man slurred on. This got Dean's attention.
"What do you mean by that, Doc?" Dean asked.
"No, call me Duncan." The man said pointedly.
"I guess you see a lot in your line of work." Dean tried.
"Sure do, sure do." The man nodded looking into his drink. "Sickness, death accidents." Duncan stopped. Dean waited to see if he would go further. "But you know what is worse than the accidents?" He asked. Dean shook his head. "All the injuries that weren't accidents, the intentional pain." Duncan signaled the bartender for a refill and he obliged. Duncan offered some to Dean but Dean refused. He was finally getting somewhere.
"You have had a lot of experience with that…the intentional stuff." Dean asked quietly.
Duncan nodded. "There are some mean men, men who don't like the way their life ended up. So they take it out on their women…their children. Now it ain't my place to say how a man handles his family. But that stuff stays with you, those kids."
"Kids like Sam Porter?" Dean asked.
Duncan let out a laugh that sounded more like a cough. "The Porters! Damn near the ones keeping me in business all these years. First with the wife, the woman was always sick. How she lived so long or even had a child I will never know. And that boy. Can't tell how many times I have patched him up." Duncan said sullenly.
"So it has been happening for a while." Dean said but it was more of a statement than a question.
"All his life." Duncan answered then paused. "Don't know what is in that boy that has Ethan so angry or scared but he has been trying to beat it out of him his whole life." Duncan said. But at this point Duncan was talking more to him self then Dean. "You ask me it is those eyes. His mom is in those eyes, her life, her spirit. Ethan can't handle her looking at him. Seeing what he has become. But that is not the sad part. Sometimes Ethan just sees Sam as Sam, sees his own son. Treats him like a son you would never know there was anything wrong. Sam clings on to those times, the hope that his father will just love him. It is the hope that is killing that boy."
Duncan pushed glass way. He looked to Dean surprised that he was still there. "You have put me off my drink." He growled at Dean. He picked up his hat and left. Dean sat staring Duncan's drink.
Dean wanted to help Sam, but he just didn't know how. There were many things that Dean was good at. But the thing he was best at was running. He could always hightail it out of town, get the hell outa doge when the situation called for it. But that was no life for a kid. Blowing from one place to the next. He didn't want that for Sam. He doubted that Sam would even go with him. He had met Sam twice and he was ready to run away with him. All he wanted was to save him. He just didn't know how.